The Faded Shield
The dream did not arrive with the softness of sleep, but with the sharp, metallic taste of ozone and old blood. It was a place that defied the geometry of the waking world, a vast, grey expanse where the sky hung low and heavy, pressed down by a weight that felt less like atmosphere and more like memory. Here, the ground was not earth but a mosaic of shattered porcelain and rusted iron, a...
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